Free Talk to Me by Allison DuBois Page B

princess”. She’s dressed in a princess costume and she says that she likes all of the Disney princesses.’
    Jennifer then shared that before her daughter passed away, the family took her to Disneyland, and she was dressed in a princess costume.
    â€˜That’s important, Jennifer,’ I explained, ‘because she’s letting you know that was one of the best days in her little life, and she was content before she died.’
    Jennifer was visibly moved. At that time, I didn’t know all that Irelynn had suffered but it was clear this information meant a great deal to her mother.
    Towards the end of the reading I told Jennifer, ‘She still lives with you, you know. She says she’s happiest there with you.’ This made Jennifer smile, knowing Irelynn was still with her and very much part of her life.
    Then I asked, ‘Your daughter wants to know if she can go play now.’
    Jennifer nodded and I shared with the audience that the little girl was running around the room playing, so it was time to conclude her reading. The hum of a collective chuckle filled the room. It was very uplifting. Just think, a four-year-old girl was able to raise the energy in a room full of broken hearts—now that’s my definition of a true angel!
    JENNIFER’S STORY
    My name is Jennifer Pruett. I was a single mother to my only daughter, Irelynn. My life became very empty on 22 December 2009, my daughter’s fourth birthday—and the day she died. Irelynn had been battling leukaemia since 18 April 2008, from the age of two. Can you imagine being so little and left without the choice of truly being young and carefree?
    She was so exhausted that she couldn’t even tell me she loved me. Early morning of that next day the worst three weeks of my life began. I was asleep in the room next to Irelynn because she had so many things hooked up to her now. So I had my little bed set up, and I needed some good quiet sleep to carry me through. It was then that my mum came in crying, ‘Jennifer, get up, Irelynn’s heart just stopped.’
    I ran out of the room, looked at her and lost control of my emotions. All I could see was the doctor pounding on Irelynn’s chest really hard, trying to give motion to her lungs because her heart had stopped beating. I dropped to my knees, my face went numb, and my sobs had no end. I can’t even explain the unimaginable pain running throughout my body. I was saying out loud, ‘No, no, no, God, please no, don’t take her, she is my world. I need her.’ Irelynn then came back to us. I went in to see her; she was so swollen and her skin was so stretched. I leaned over her and broke down. I could see an impression in her chest from the doctor doing compressions. It was more than she or I could bear. She was then put on life support for her breathing and dialysis for her kidneys.
    I can remember the doctor’s words: ‘We now have her on everything we can. But I need to tell you that I have a feeling Irelynn will not make it longer than twelve hours, and in my professional opinion we should probably just let her go.’
    So I processed what I had just been told: Irelynn may die by morning. Again, I went numb and cried for many hours and I found myself unable to eat, or even function, as a part of me was dying with my little girl.
    Irelynn’s grandfathers were her best friends. They had a wonderful bond. So I knew I wasn’t the only one hurting at losing Irelynn. My dad and I talked for a minute privately, then we both leaned over Irelynn as she lay motionless. I told her how hard this was for me and that her papa was here with me.
    My dad whispered, ‘Hey, Papa’s girl. Sweetie, Mummy has something very important to tell you.’
    I leaned over her again. ‘Irelynn, we see you’re struggling and so tired. Papa and I would like for you to know that if you want to let go, we’re okay with that. We won’t